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Zurich Herald, 1926-10-28, Page 6Full. of Flavour Tel 1 So why accept exhausted bulk tees. ll You may not like Joseph Bishop, but this story of the awakening of his cramped :tout will hold you to the last word. BY SOPHIE KERR. PART L It was very quiet there in the sick- room, very quiet and very hot. A bare room, like many other farm bed- rooms, with whitewashed walls and plain, ugly furniture, the green, wav- ery glass of the square of mirror over the chest of drawers reflecting the glare of sunlight beyond the shade of the swamp maples that spread above and around the house. Molly Bishop looked out anxiously into this glare. "If it'd only rain, or this spell of heat let up a little, I know the fever'd brealc. But it's like a sea of brass," she murmured to herself. "Reckon I'll sponge him off again like Doc Pruitt t said, and see—anyway I got to keep trying." She turned back with resolution to the bed, and dipped white linen cloths swiftly and deftly into cold water. Her hands, thin and worn, knotted at the joints, moved in an agony of tender- ness over her patient. He was her only son, and as he lay there, flushed and hot, and vaguely muttering inco- herent words, she felt the blood drip away from her heart in apprehension. Bobby Bishop was sixteen, yet there was something babyish about his fore- head, still clear and white in contrast with the deep tan of the rest of his face, and more babyish still his blond hair, which had grown out since his illness,• curled in pitiful ringlets about his whiteness. Molly Bishop, as she bathed him, found herself looking at these ringlets, and tears dropped slow- - ly down her cheeks. "Just like when he was a little fel- low," she thought. "My little boy, my little boy! Never had a chance— never! But I won't give you up—I won't. I can't. You're everything." She had a:most finished her task when she heard Joseph Bishop, her husband, copse into the kitchen, letting the screen door slam behind him. She shivered, and bent to see if the noise had disturbed Bobby—she almost wished it would, it had been so long since he had noticed anything. She drew the cool cloth once more across his forehead, and went quickly down- stairs. That was to prevent Joseph Bishop from corning up. Indeed, he was at the foot of the stairs as she reached the head of them, and she held up a warning hand to stay hirn. "How's he now?" asked Joseph Bishop anxiously, but not lowering his voice. "Just the name's far's I can see. Did you see Doc Pruitt in town?" "Yes, I saw 'im." Joseph Bishop wagged his heavy head ominously. He was a big, thick, clumsy man, ruddy and blunt of fea- ture, loud -voiced, a man without nerves or sensibility a reader of char- acter might observe, "What did he say?" demanded Molly Bishop, "What did he say, Joe? Teri nue every word." She had got him out into the kitchen again, and shut the door at the foot of the stairs. "He said there wasn't no hope. Fc•var's lasted too long. He thought 't'd surely break the seventh day, and satisfies the desire for sweets, helps make - strong healthy teeth, removes particles of food frcim t. th crevices, and aids digestion. So it is a wonderful. help to health. l s U r; %1'X, 43 -'244 when it didn't he said he was certain it's break on the ninth. And now it hasn't broke on the ninth, Bobby'll just lay there like that and in a couple days go into a deeper stupor, and that'll be the end." If the words had been brows from Joe Bishop's powerful hands, his wife could not have shrunk and winced under them more abjectly. Her thin face, already shadowed with the pallor of fatigue and misery, turned almost blue -white. She caught at the kitchen table to keep herself from falling. "Oh, don't, Joe! Don't!" she cried out in an actual physical agony. "He couldn't have meant that, Doc Pruitt couldn't. He couldn't have meant that Bobby's got to die; that there ain't any real hope for him." "That's what he said. It is hard -- right at harvest time, too. I dunno where I'll be able to find an extra hand." "Oh, what's the harvest!" Molly Bishop's voice rose in a cry of despair. "By tripes, Moly, you're wandering in your mind!" said her husband se- verely. "Wheat's going to two dollars this fall!" "Did Doc say there was no hope?" she pleaded, disregarding his state- ment about the wheat. "Not a bit? Bobby's never been what you might call puny, though he never was so stout, neither. Looks 's if he could surely get out from under a little spell of fever." Her hollow eyes implored him. "No, he said they wasn't no hope, and it'd be all over in two -three days now." He flung it at her squarely, impatient at her insistence. Molly Bishop dropped into a chair and flung her apron over her head. She did not cry, she did not say a word, only sat still, numb with the pain of it. Her husband waited a lit- tle and his impatience increased. He gave a long, noisy sigh. "We goin' to have dinner to -day?" he asked at last, for he was a man who liked to eat hearty, rich food three times a day. His wife dropped the aprcn and sat up in the chair, dry-eyed and resolute. "You can go over to the Sanderses and get Lottie Sanders to come and cook," she said. "I ain't going to stir out of Bobby's room again till the end comes. I guess his mother can do that much for him." "If there's anything cooked up I could eat it cold before I go over to Sanderses," suggested Joe Bishop, for his stomach was clamoring for its ac- customed load. "Maybe with a cup of coffee." "If you want you can build the fire and make yourself some coffee," re- turnd Molly. "And whatever there is is right there in the pantry." She left the room, and Joe Bishop heard her going upstairs. He was annoyed —there was no reason why she shouldn't have taken time to make hint a cup of coffee; but he didn't insist, though usually he made it a point not to humor Molly's vagaries, When he married he let her know who was mas- ter, and a few lessons had sufficed. To -day, though, there was something about herthat got through even his customary sluggish arrogance, warn- ing hini not to force an issue. He rummaged in the pantry and brought out cold meat, bread, thick sugar cookies, half a custard pie. He decided that it was hardly worth while to build a fire, such a hot day and all; but he went out to the spring house and got a pitcher of milk, some butter, and a dish of cottage cheese, Not`' a very good dinner, as Joseph Bishop's dinners usually went, but it would .serve. Lottie Sanders could cook hint a hot, filling meal to -night, All of the food. he Fut on the clean scoured kitchen table, and as he sat l there and slowly and noisily devoured 't, smacking his lips over the icy milk ,---that was a keen idea, cold mllk in - steed of coffee on a day like this, he told . hinise'.f--he thought about " the coming harvest and about the sick boy upstairs. To -day was Monday, If Bob- by lasted till Thursday they could have the funeral on Sunday. That Would leave the next week clear for the harvest, and no work day lost, There was nothing eonseiously brutal in the 'mind of Joseph Bishop as he Ice cream is stated, in an official Made these plans. He had always report on dairy produce, to be a very prided himself on his feeehandedness, valuable foodstuff, and Paid his success as a farmer to'. looking ahead when most of the farm- Mtnard'si Liniment fee bruleeei ers,round about were, as he truthfully said, "looking behind and trying to catch up with themselves." And to had heard so much praise for hie fore- Iiandedrisre and took such credit to himself for it, that it had become . a dear vanity with him, and second an- ture to exercise it. It was the way in which he had been reared. His had been a pinched, re- pressed, hard -worked childhood, with- out ono gleam of natural joy or version. di- version. His father was an Old- Testament parent, sparing not the rod; harsh to his children, thrifty to the point of cold penury. His mother vbas a drudge, crushed under the heavy work of her household: Joseph Bishop had '!learned from his cradle only to work and to save. Joy, beauty, affec- tion, sympathy, he had never known. His thought went on, slowly, thick:3i, to the time of his munching heavy jaws. Whether they h"ad Bobby's funeral on Sunday or any day next week, they'd have to get Parson Wayne to preach the funeral sermon, because their own pastor, Parson Hig- gins, had gone out west for his health, and the two churches were having union meetings. He did not particularly want Par- son Wayne, for the little old man had always stood rather on his dignity with Joseph Bishop, and the farmer somehow suspeeted the minister of not thinking as well of him as his stand- ing hi the community commanded.' However, that could not be helped now. If Parson Wayne was the only preach- er in the neighborhood, he would have to preach Bobby's funeral sernxopr Then there came into the mind of Joseph Bishop the recollection of a bit of news he had heard recently, namely that Mardy Graham's wife was poorly and not expected to dive. In that case, supposing she should die about the same time as Bobby did, Mardy might get Parson Wayne for her funeral just when he, Joseph Bishop, would want him. That would be intolerable. Mardy was only a renter, shiftless, not even considered to be strictly "honest. He certainly ought not to be able to set a- time for the burial of his dead before Joseph Bishop's wishes had been attended to. With these thoughts the farmer's instinct for forehandedness demanded action. He smacked his stout palm. down on his stout thigh. By tripes, he'd go in town and see Parson Wayne right away, before he even went for Lottie Sanders. He'd get Lottie on the way back. The farm work wasn't pressing for the afternoon. Why not? He had eaten all the food, and ]-e did not bother to put away the dishes. That was woman's work. They could wait for Lottie Sanders. He tramped into the foot of the stairs again, full of his purpose. "Molly," he called, "I got to drive in town again on an errand. Pll be back before milking time." He did not wait to hear what Molly answered, but went back through the house, stopping only to look in the pantry to see if there might be a few dozen eggs he could take to town as he went. But there was only a scant dozen, and he frowned and let them alone. Molly wasn't gathering the eggs carefully, that was plain. To- night he'd gather them himself. It irked him to get into his light motor truck empty-handed. He had taken in a calf to the butcher on his morning's trip. Although he owned a car, Joseph Bishop only drove it on Sundays and holidays the motor truck was his weekly vehicle, even ,when, as now, he had no load for it. Parson Wayne was at home, and he was soon admitted into the high -celled, shaded study, book -lined and prim, where the old man wrote his sermons at a desk which had been his father's and was far too large for. him. Joseph Bishop looked about him curiously. It beat him why any one man. should want so many books around. And that vase of honeysuckle on the desk —what foolishness! It made hint feel superior and solid just to look at it. No rubbish like that ever littered up his house, inside or out. In a very few minutes the old min- ister came in, wiping his forehead, his fine old face white. from the exhaus- tion of the heat, his eyes deep and dark under shaggy brows, the one really live thing about him. Now these eyes were fled with compassion, sympathy. "I suppose," he began gently, in his soft, clear voice that carried with it still the faintest thrill of its old-time clarion fire, "I suppose—Brother Bishop—that your son—that Rob- ert—" his voice trembled and his lips worked like a woman about to cry, He held out sympathetic hands. Joseph Bishop looked at him in sur- prise. The old parson must he getting childish to carry on this way. "Why no., Parson, Bobby's not dead," he said in his big rumbling voice, but Doc Pruitt says he's bound to go in two -three days, and I thought I'd best come in and see you, and ask you to hold off making arrangements. 'for any other funeral till I knew just when I was going to need you." It was a perfectly simple explana- tion to Joseph, and he made it as simply as he felt it. He could not understand the piercing and ineredul- bus glanee that the other man bent on him. The old minister walked round to his desk, and sat down, leaned his white head on his whiter hand and still kept that deep, inquisitorial gaze on the farmer. (To be concluded,) SOFT FULNESS AND PANELS ADD CHARM. Simply though definitely this frock traces its chic to many Paris fashions. Gracefully fashioned of gleaming satin, it is relieved in front by gilt belt buckles and discs on the loose panels. It has the bloused waistline endorsed by Premet, and a new version of the versatile tie collar. The founda tion of the frock, is in one piece, three loose panels being arranged at each side of the skirt aCnd topped with a narrow belt. The tie long ends are caught to the belt and the full sleeves are gathered into wrist -bands. No. 1435 is in sizes 34, 36, 88, 40 and 42 inches bust. Size 36 requires 4 yards 39 -inch material. 20 cents. Our Fashion. Book, illustrating the newest and most practical styles, will be of interest to every home dress- maker. Price of the book 10 cents the copy:: HOW TO ORDER PATTERNS. Write your name and address plain- ly, giving . number and size of such patterns as you want. Enclose 20c in stamps or coin (coin preferred; wrap it carefully) for each number and address your order to Pattern Dept., Wilson Publishing Co., '73 West Ade- laide St., Toronto, Patterns sent by return mail. Autumn Leaves. Beauty of russet and scarlet swirled, Crisp brown scraps of parchment curled, Veined transparencies, scalloped sheen, Little gold fans and arrows of green,— Down you flit by twos and threes, By scores and clouds from the drowsy trees. Dancing there in a giddy round, Drifting here to the cordial ground, Quiet or sleeping, none of you grieves. On a bright and spirited autumn day Why should anyone sigh and say,— "Dead leaves?" Ho, for the new adventure begun With release from the bough! There is wind, there is sun! There is hope that builds already for spring. Who forever would clutch and cling Even upon one beautiful tree? Now, little lingerers, now you are free! Free to flutter and float and fiy, Each to be quiet at last, and lis In a gentle sleep under snow, under rain, • Till spring shall rouse you over again; Out of your dust in the fragrant mould, Mingled with essences manifold, Sap and strength from a quenchless Source, Life and love for' an endless course. Dry leaves, old leaves, tired but glad, Who should be frightened, who be sad? Off for renascence, none knows how, Perhaps to bud on a fairer bough, Not a single green leaf, but a Rose in- stead. No leaves are dead. —Youth's Companion. Very Polite Lad. Uncle—"'Well, you little 'rascal, how many times have you been whacked at school to -day?" Tommy --"Dunne, uncle. I don't take any notice of what goes on be- hind my back." 7onorlro HAIRDRESSING ACA'DEM'/ ^ RW OWS-YOU HO CY „ lorinlne ler Serinl /ern W t ler 06 MY I de,erl41ni vhrleMi 4640,eV Y�j} �lW r�ui Head, 70A0'NTO 6, VA: Under the Stars. .4.11 thouglrtfull minds have their tunes of depression Life .looms too large and overwhelming, end • the spirit is pressed bo Ito lames, Then lite may appear to bo =roof a nightmare than a joyous adventure.. From boyhood to old age the stars had a strong fascination for the poet Tennyson. He would climb out on the roof on a starlit night to gains up into the starry vault, lose himself in im- mensity. His brother was shy is elam- pan•y. He said to him: "Think of the great star patches and you will soon get over that" It is a fine saying, but it is not in aecordance altogether with the painful experience of most people of sensi- tive mind. The sight of a sky studded with stars more often gives a sense of littleness and futility and .lostness Which may be terribly depressing. There are profound resoripts of human nature In the Book of Psalms. For instance., when the poet bad been gazing into the star-spangled .depths of a Syrian sky, he exclaimed: "What is man that Thou are mindful of him?" That is the thought that occurs to anyone who is not so taken up with the trinkets of life that the immensi- ties are lost sight of. Unless we adjust our thought pro- perly to the true value of things, a book of astronomy is depressing read- ing. Space becomes an obsession; the figures in which star -distances are computed, a menace to sanity! I Tennyson meant to say: "To think of the nebulouls mist of the lYlilky Way, revealed by the telescope to consist not of star -dust, but of myriads, count- less and illimitable, of flaming suns, beside which even our own mighty orb of day is a mere pigmy, helps to put us all in our proper place, to make the big people who frighten us appear the pigmies they really are." If I have the post's meaning aright, I am not in agreement with him, If the eight of countless suns depresses mo, I am thinkly wrongly. You and I are not insignificant. The sight of stars on a clear night need not be de- pressing, even though we are capable of realizing that they represent but the avenue lamps aeading to the pal- ace of infinity. That very realization lifts you and me to a proud eminence. You piok up a pebble on the shore, one of billions of similar pebbles. Do you feel small and of no account in its presence? No, it's only a pebble! Multiply it by a sum running to fifty figures; what is it then? Just a pebble; a big one, but a pebble notwithstanding. But we give it another name. We call it a world. Similarly, the sun itself is but the handful of fuel burning in. your grate multiplied until one can warm one's hands at it though distant ninety mil- lion miles. Mere bulk need not appal the soul. One flash of thought is more than all the sun's r'ays. The poet was right who, after pointing out to the child the vastness of the world on which she dwelt, said:— You are more than the world, though you are such a dot, You can love an think, and the world cannot. Success in Canada. That Canada has wonderful advant- ages dvantages for the boys of Great Britain was demonstrated in a striking way at a meeting- of the Board of Guardians of an English workhouse recently. There were twelve boys to be disposed of and emigration was suggested. This was opposed by some of the lady mem- bers on the ground that lads would have to endure great hardships, etc. One of the members told of an inci- dent that came under his own obser- vation. A lad who had been sent out fifteen years ago returned on a visit stylishly dressed and showing every evidence of prosperity. When he call- ed at the old home where he had lived as a child he provided a special treat for the children, spending ten pounds. It was 'then unanimously decided to let the twelve lads try their fortunes in Canada. Stylish ilress for 15 cts r It helps a lot when a woman is wise to home dyeing, Old, fad•e•d dreseo•s made the new color's of the hour dust as perfect as any professional dyer could do it ---it only you'.1 usa re,•cl d,ye. It's easy to Diamond Dye dozens of things, and do wond,erfel tinting of underwear and all dainty piece -e Using true dye is the secret. Yea can Dia- mond dye all your curtains and covers, scarfs and spreads; any material, and. right over other colors, . So easy, it's, fun! FREE: ask the clri:ggist tor the D:a- mond Dye Cyclopedia for suggestions,. and easy directions; •actual p,ece-goods. !color samples, etc. Or the big Illus- trated book, Color Craft, free, write l)i eMON1) DYES, Dept. N3, Windsor, • Ontario 11114c ft 1VLW for Ta' Cosi a r.. Because Lux . prolongs the life of fabrics. Its use for every fabric- cleansing abriccleansing need is a real thrift. A little Lux goes so far ' and it works so safely that millions of careful housewives use Lux for the whole family wash. L-536 teF0R YOUR L :PROTECTION::, .441,1X 1S N Y ,• 7�50iti IN:BUIK�.• fR BROTNERS.LIMITEO,;TORONTO: The Child. So small to start upon so long a trail Dusty feet scuffling beside the team, Watching a squirrel flicker out oftsight, Waterbugs skate superbly on the stream. The world will change beyond that! furthest hill— Will it- be level when we reach the\ top? Perhaps there'll be a lake, a swamp, al bear! Perhaps there'll be a deep and fright` ful'drop Into a valley with a waterfall. There goes a woodpecker—a biuei y,t see! What's hiding there behind that hie) i kory stump? Young eyes awake to the shudder of each tree, Young feet already burned and call loused. sped Upon long miles of danger and delight,\' Young lips with but one question-.-. what's ahead? —Gwendolen haste. a Mlnard's Liniment for toothache. Village of 100 Employs Doctor. Gove, •a village of twelve • miles off the railroad in Gove County, Kansas, with a population of about 100, had; difficulty in keeping a physician in town because of the small remunera-i tion he received in fees, the come munity being small and healthy. But the people were determined to have a doctor. They met and employed Dr. Earl V. Adams to be the town physician. He gives healthful advice and prescribes for the people of the town and receives his monthly salary only through the contributions of the' people of the town. Proved. . Schoolmistress — "Willie, give me, three proofs that the world is round."! Willie --"The geography book says; so, you say so, and father says so." Old hearts will beat more quick- ly; old eyes will shine with happiness when YOU go home. And what a joy it will be for you, too, visiting the scenes of childhood days and :meeting friends of other years! Make arrangements now to go home this Christmas on a liner of the Cunard or Anchor - Donaldson Canadian Service. The voyage will be an wafer. gettable pleasure. The ship's comfortable appointments and the courteous, intelligent inter- est taken by every rncnibl:r of. the staff in your wcll-being make your journey a real joy. Christmas ,Failings from IIaiifav • ANTONIA—Doe.13 to Plymouth, Cherbourg ,^,null London. *LtTITlA — Dec. 12 to Belfast, Liverpool and Glassow. *Doc. 11 Ero a John, N. B. Askyoirr a cenehip Agcrrt forinformatiori. or wra,'a— he Robert Reford Co., Limited Montreal, Toronto, Quebee, St. John, M.B,, Halifax. .ANC11Oft ONAi DSO CANADIAN SEF lCq